The One Where I Fall Off My Bike Twice in 30 Seconds

When you read the inevitable future blog post in which I tell you how stupid I am, and you shake your head and think I’m obviously just fishing for compliments because seriously, no one is that stupid, I want you to come back and re-read this post first. And weep.

So, this morning Terry and I go out cycling. We’re cycling merrily along, up hill and down dale (but mostly up hill, it has to be said), and also, along the side off the motorway, because that’s what it’s like where we live. Yeah.

(Note: a FIELD by the side of the motorway. Not along the ACTUAL side of the motorway, because that would be illegal. And also: stupid.)

Anyway, there we are traversing the side of a particularly bumpy hill when Terry, who is lead file in this expedition, suddenly stops (Reason: unknown). I, travelling immediately behind him, am forced to stop too. As I do so, I place my right foot down on the ground to steady myself.

Except we’re on a hill.

So there is no ground.

And I am stupid.

With an embarrassingly feminine squeal, followed by an equally embarrassingly masculine grunt, I promptly fall sideways off my bike, and roll a little way down the hill. Terry watches and laughs. (Remind me, why am I marrying Terry, again?)

The only harm done is to my ego, so I get up, dust myself down, and get back in the saddle. Off we go. We’ve been cycling on for not more than 30 seconds when Terry stops again. (Reason: still unknown.) I stop behind him, put my foot to the ground – and promptly fall off my bike again. AGAIN.

And this is why stupidity should be painful. (Actually? It kind of was…)

So, we’re back home now, and Terry has laughed at me, ooooh, maybe 30 times? I am stupid. And also: bruised. But! But! It’s all OK, because I bet I totally burned a kazillion calories and now I’m all toned, like an athlete, no?

Um, no. I consulted my nifty little “bike pedometer” thing when we got home. We’ve done 5 kilometres in one hour. Calories burned: 60. Sixty. If that right there doesn’t convince you that exercise is a complete and utter waste of time, I don’t what will. I mean, 60 calories. That’s nothing. I bet the two slices of toast and, OK, jam, that I had when I got back contained more calories than that.

Ha! I did this exact thing in west Africa while I was teaching in a rural school. I stopped my bike for some reason and attempted to stand but missed the ground somehow and managed to fall completely over, bike and all. The cattlemen along the road looked away hurridly. When I was talking to one of them later that evening he said that he saw me but was too ‘ashamed’ to acknowledge me! Of course I countered this with a loud proclamation to everyone within earshot that ‘OMG, I fell and it hurt!!! Did you see?!’ to expel any sense of shame that might be circulating in the air. I’m not sure why I thought this approach would work but I’m happy to report that it did. Fly your freak flag with pride!

I know this is old but I thought perhaps it will make you feel better that I once got a flat tire (banged into the curb just a bit), waited thirty minutes for AAA to come by and fix it, got back in the car, drove two and a half blocks and a pop hole jumped out of nowhere right in front of the front right wheel that now had the doughnut on it and gave me another flat. I had to get towed to the car tire place and am teased about every single time I drive with my father.